


The Best of Enemies

by bluebellsinbottles



Category: The Great Library Series - Rachel Caine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pride and Prejudice Fusion, F/F, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24055078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebellsinbottles/pseuds/bluebellsinbottles
Summary: Niccolo Santi is heading to Alexandria as one of the newest Postulants to the Great Library. Little does he know that there's more than books and weapons training waiting for him...
Relationships: Niccolo Santi/Christopher Wolfe
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	The Best of Enemies

**Author's Note:**

> This might stray a little bit away from canon but please, bear with me! Also, in this AU, Nic and Chris were postulants together.

As Niccolo Santi stepped into the carriage, he was not his father’s son. In fact, if his father could read his mind, he would probably enter the train and shoot his boy point-blank. For Niccolo was feeling something that no Santi should ever feel. Fear. It was a relatively unfamiliar emotion and he didn’t like the way it turned his stomach and made his head spin. He was so preoccupied that he was unaware of the carriage doors sealing shut and the ground beginning to move beneath him. Once Niccolo had gathered his bearings, he hurried to the nearest window - just in time to see his father and brothers standing solemnly on the platform. It was the tears which shone in his mother’s eyes, though, which sobered him.

Trista Santi had lost a father and a sister to the perils of the Library. She lived each day praying for her Garda husband’s safe return. Now, she was releasing her son to the same fate. For his mother, Niccolo would survive. For his father, he would have to thrive. At sixteen, Niccolo was rather lanky. Traces of acne peppered his cheeks and his laughable attempt at a beard barely shadowed his jaw. But he had all the makings of a Garda soldier. The High G arda ran in his blood - with three generations before him upholding positions of considerable rank. His command of a gun was undeniable. Once, he had shot an apple off of his youngest brother’s curly head - a feat which had displeased his mother greatly. If not now, Niccolo would soon be as physically able as all those who he had admired since childhood. It was only a matter of time, and resilience…

The carriage jolted. Niccolo locked his knees instinctively to stop himself from tumbling into the window. Someone behind him, who was attempting to shuffle down the aisle, had no such luck. They careened towards the boy, who managed to catch them under the arms and roll into the movement of the train. This slowed the pair’s momentum and Niccolo let go. As the adrenaline faded, he was able to make out a girl. Her dark eyes were bright and seemingly unstartled, “Thank you very much,” she smiled, “the name’s Marnie.” She thrust her hand out, Niccolo clasped it and shook. “I’m Niccolo Santi,” he said, absently. In truth, he was taken aback by the girl’s accent - “Yes, I am American.” Marnie helpfully supplied, as though she confirmed this often. This ignited a series of thoughts for Niccolo - countless memories of his father condemning all Americans as Burners. The boy had never met an American before, so he wasn’t able to disprove this claim. He took a small step backwards. Marnie, who was clearly extremely observant, regarded him sadly. “Burners killed my sister. They stole our food and set fire to our houses. We had to study in basements, so they wouldn’t guess our plans…” Her impassioned voice trailed away and Niccolo looked down at his feet in shame. Only he could offend without speaking. He didn’t dare utter another word so the two of them wallowed in an awkward silence for a great while.

Eventually, Marnie drew a breath, “I’m sorry. Etta always says that I can be too sensitive. You didn’t even say anything,” the girl was visibly flustered, “please forgive me. You see, I thought you were judging-” “-I was.” Niccolo interrupted, “I was judging you, and that was unacceptable of me. So, I suppose you’ll have to forgive me too.” Marnie beamed and grasped his hand once more. “Would you come sit with me and my girlfriend? Etta tends to make… intense friends and I’d be grateful for some quieter company.” Niccolo had nowhere else to go so he nodded. Marnie squealed and led him down the aisle, twin black braids bobbing behind her.

Marnie was correct about her girlfriend’s penchant for making interesting friends. As they entered the compartment, a wave of chatter washed over them. Three people - a girl and two boys - engaged in a turbulent and political conversation: “Allowing countries to strengthen their own governments will only result in riots,” the dark-haired boy argued, pounding his fist against the tufted velvet of his seat. The girl, who, Niccolo presumed was Marnie’s girlfriend, was equally riled, “The Archivist isn’t a god. He needs advice.” “He has the Artifex!” countered the boy, “He has the Artifex up his ass, if that’s what you- Marnie!” The girl’s face softened immediately as she looked up, any trace of contempt vanished from her slate-grey eyes. Marnie grinned, “I had a feeling you’d be tormenting people,” she teased, nestling down beside Etta. Etta shrugged and murmured disdainfully about how predictable she must be becoming. A few moments passed of Niccolo loitering awkwardly in the entrance. Marnie, who had been resting comfortably against her girlfriend, gasped. “Oh, Nic, I am sorry! Etta, everyone, this is Nic.” “Niccolo,” he tried to amend, but the name had already stuck and a blond boy, the one who hadn’t been defending the Archivist earlier, was beckoning “Nic” to sit with him. “Nic stopped me from falling on my face when the train jolted earlier,” Marnie explained. Etta smiled at this, fondly familiar with her counterpart’s clumsiness. Her tanned, slender hand reached out across the small table, Nic shook it. Then, in turn, he repeated the salutation with the blond boy (Kevin Nilsson from Sweden) and the dark-haired boy (Bae Seul-bin from Korea).

“So, Nic,” began Seul-bin, “how did you find the exam?” Niccolo grimaced as he cast his mind back to taking the entrance exam in the Rome Serapeum. It had not gone too well. He didn’t want to jeopardise his standing with this group so he just shrugged, “I’m here, aren’t I?” this came out harsher than he had meant but, thankfully, nobody seemed to take offence. “I barely passed most of the sections,” Seul-bin replied with… pride? “Full marks on the garda section, of course. Shows true dedication. It’s my greatest passion.” He had the stature for garda life too - tall and muscular, though he couldn’t be much older than Niccolo, himself. Niccolo nodded, “I admire that,” he said, “I’m going to be garda too.” If there was any competition between the two of them, it dissipated once Seul-bin clapped Niccolo on the shoulder, “Perhaps one day we will fight together, brother.” They shared an appreciative look. Etta scoffed, “By Heron, Marnie, they have more chemistry than we do.” The two boys coughed and awkwardly shuffled away from each other. “So…” Kevin cut the silence, “who’s terrified out of their wits?”


End file.
